


be not like me; i am alone

by lemonzestiest



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ((barely)), ((solas' identity is mentioned)), F/M, Lavellan angst, Post In Hushed Whispers, Solas Angst, Solas POV, gratuitous use of drinking to move a romance forward, minor spoilers for the end of dragon age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 21:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonzestiest/pseuds/lemonzestiest
Summary: Lavellan has just come back from Redcliffe, where things went awry- in the worst way possible.For reasons Solas cannot fathom, he is the one the others turn to in order to help her.((He really doesn't mind, but he DOES hate the Dalish.))





	

“Solas!” 

 

A loud voice broke him from his reverie and he turned, faint annoyance flickering in his chest. Cassandra, brash as always. 

 

“Solas, have you seen Lavellan?” she demanded. Nothing was ever a question with Cassandra- she was incapable of speaking in anything but commands. 

 

Pushing his thoughts aside, he shook his head. “I assume she’s off on some mission, chasing down bandits and rescuing mages.” 

 

Cassandra’s brows bunched and her mouth puckered up like she was eating a sweet tart. “Leliana has said she has not left camp, and she is not in her tent.” 

 

He shrugged. “And that is my problem how, exactly?” he asked cautiously. Cassandra was easily the most distrusting of apostates here-besides Cullen, at least- and he didn’t need to give her any MORE reason to hate him. 

 

“You and Lavellan are close, are you not?” Cassandra asked, cocking her head. “To be truthful, I expected to find her here with you.” 

 

He fought down a small pang in his chest- not quite an unpleasant one- and shook his head. “Well, our Dalish friend is not here. Did you require her assistance?” 

 

Cassandra sighed, and looked troubled. Cassandra looked troubled about a lot of things, most of them nonsense, but in conjecture with Lavellan, it made Solas faintly nervous. “She….has just come back from a mission. A harrowing one. Apparently, she and that Tevinter mage…...traveled forward in time. Somehow.” She sighed again. “She witnessed her companions suffer and die. No one can be alright after that. I hoped to find her and…..” Cassandra trailed off. “I am not sure what I hoped to do, truly,” she admitted. “Help her in any way I could.” 

 

Worry churned in his gut. He bade Cassandra a polite farewell, then delved into the tips of his magic to find Lavellan. Her aura was tangible, just a few feet away from where he stood outside the apothecary. He frowned for a moment. That couldn't be right. He checked again, and was assured that his magic wasn't failing him, 

 

Lavellan was in the tavern. 

 

And judging by the slightly smudged edges of her magic, she was drunk. Solas sighed, already heading in that direction, lamenting to himself. A centuries old elvhen god of rebellion, and what was he doing? Playing babysitter to a drunk Dalish elf with absolutely no sense of self-preservation. Pushing open the doors to Flissa’s tavern, he braced himself. 

 

Lavellan was hunkered in down in her seat in a secluded corner of the tavern. An air of moodiness surrounded her, and even the most ardent of the “Herald of Andraste’s” fans dared not to approach her. The change from her normally sunny and kind attitude shocked him. The earlier mission must’ve wore on her harder than even Cassandra had thought. 

 

Ignoring the glare she shot him as he approached, he pulled out a chair at her table. 

 

She glowered at him. 

 

He waited, cocking his eyebrow. 

 

“Today was bad,” she relented, slurring slightly. “That was….bad.” She took a huge gulp of her drink. 

 

“What’s troubling you, da’len?” he asked, trying to be somewhat kind. The elf wasn’t so bad, and she did not deserve to be in this state. 

 

She stared into the depths of her tankard. In a voice so quiet he had to strain to hear her, she said, “I….I watched them all die. Iron Bull, Varric, and Leliana.” 

 

His brow furrowed. “Yes, that must have been difficult for you,” Solas responded slowly, “but it wasn’t real.” 

 

She looked up fiercely, golden eyes burning a hole through his skull. “It was to  _ me _ . And to those fake, future, whatever you’d like to call them versions of  _ my friends _ .” The anger faded and she simply looked devastated. “I….I failed them. I failed everyone.” 

 

He hesitated for a moment, then gently placed his hand atop hers. When she didn’t pull away, he said, “Then learn and  _ grow  _ from the experience. Use your skills and knowledge and talent to prevent that world from ever coming to pass.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and went to pull away, but she clung on. 

 

“Solas,” she began unsteadily, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Solas, I’m very, _very_ glad I didn’t bring you on that mission.” 

He cocked his head, confused. Reaching back, he could remember being a tad grouchy over the fact that Lavellan picked some foreign flashy fire mage over him, he wasn’t too upset. “Why?” 

 

“Because,” she stopped, looking vaguely nauseated. “You’re….one of my dearest friends. You- you matter to me.” She forged on, seeming stronger now. Tears were still streaking down her face, but slower now. “I dont think I could’ve stood by and watch you die.” She bit her lip and looked down. “I would’ve tried to save you. Then we would’ve all died, in that reality and in this one.” 

 

Shell-shocked, Solas sat back, with Lavellan still maintaining a firm grasp on his hand. “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not planning on dying anytime soon.” He ended with a gentle grin at her. 

 

She let out a hiccupy laugh and laid her head down on the table. 

 

“My word, you’re a clingy, sad drunk,” he observed. Lavellan squeezed his hand in displeasure, but let out a small giggle. 

 

“I know. It’s very inconvenient to me,” she mourned. “That’s why I never get drunk. It’s just no fun for me.” 

 

He sighed. “Well, you should probably get some water and rest. You’re going to be even more unhappy in the morning.” She mirrored his sigh and stood up. 

 

Lavellan squeezed his hand one last time before letting go, saying, “Good night, Solas,” in an impossibly fond voice. His heart constricted as she walked away. 

 

Flissa was instantly at his side. “Is Lady Lavellan alright?” she asked worriedly. “I couldn’t help but notice she was drinking more than normal. Or is that a Dalish thing? Is it a certain time of the month for them or something? Oh dear, I really should stop talking.” 

 

Sending a half-hearted grin towards Flissa, he said, “Yes, she should be alright now.” 

 

She looked relieved. “Good, good. Knew I could count on you to cheer her up, Solas!” Flissa hurried back behind the bar, much to the relief of a line of thirsty recruits waiting to be served. 

 

Solas walked outside, lost in thought. Since when had he the one to go to on all things Lavellan? It was mildly disturbing, to say the least, but what was more disturbing was how much he found he liked it. 

 

He shook those thoughts from his mind. He was Fen’Harel, ancient Dalish god of trickery and rebellion, and he was always alone. Even if he’d prefer not to be- even if a small Dalish elf had him of the verge of questioning all he knew. 

  
Gods, he  _ really  _ hated the Dalish. 

**Author's Note:**

> my first solavellan fic!! dedicated to bon. luv ya bon. 
> 
> might write another solavellan fic, theyre just too goode. ty for reading and kudos are appreciated!! <3


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